Amid the swirling storms of court politics and the relentless struggle for power, one man consistently remained silent, patiently biding his time for the perfect moment to act.
Wang Yun, Lord Situ, a high-ranking minister responsible for overseeing rites and music, held a position of great prestige within the imperial court. His role was not merely administrative—it symbolized the reverence for scholarship and culture, granting him authority over all ceremonial and ritual affairs of the court. Yet, despite his prominent status among the court's elite, Wang Yun's private life was far from the dignified image the public might have assumed.
In an era saturated with power and riddled with growing corruption, Wang Yun chose to maintain a low profile, cultivating a quiet existence of his own. Under the tyrannical rule of Dong Zhuo, many officials bowed their heads in submission, harboring unspoken resentment but lacking the courage to resist. Wang Yun, however, opted for a strategy of "concealing his brilliance and nurturing his strength," weathering the turbulent times with calculated restraint. By day, he kept to himself, rarely making public appearances. Yet within the walls of his residence, a group of courtesans remained, offering him entertainment and solace in his private world.
In those days, keeping courtesans and forming intimate bonds with them was not considered improper. On the contrary, it was seen as a mark of refinement and cultural sophistication, a practice many officials took pride in. Wang Yun was no exception. His household was home to a number of exceptionally talented official courtesans, among whom Diao Chan stood out as the most remarkable.
Diao Chan was taken in by Wang Yun at a young age, nurtured under his watchful eye and trained in the refined arts of music, chess, calligraphy, painting, embroidery, song, and dance. She excelled particularly in dancing—her slender frame moved with grace, yet her full bosom swayed enticingly with each step, captivating all who watched. Her beauty was like a flower in its first bloom, her skin as fair as snow, her face radiant like a pearl glowing beneath the moonlight.
When Diao Chan was summoned before Wang Yun to perform, she had blossomed into a vision of allure, her beauty intoxicating—a rare symphony of slender grace and voluptuous curves. As she danced, her slender, long legs moved with mesmerizing elegance, their lithe contours catching the flickering lamplight. Her slim waist, a delicate hourglass, swayed rhythmically, accentuating the soft flare of her round bottom, which teased beneath the clinging silk of her robe. His gaze fixated on the hypnotic sway of her full breasts, their curves beckoning as the fabric shifted against her skin. Entranced, he drew her closer, his fingers deftly untying her sash, the silk parting to reveal the delicate expanse of her collarbone. Slipping beneath her undergarment, his hands found her breasts, lifting and pressing them together with a possessive hunger. Through the thin fabric, her nipples sharpened into view, caught between his thumbs and forefingers. He kneaded her softness, thumbs circling the hardening peaks, coaxing a soft gasp from her lips. Her deep cleavage spilled enticingly over the edge of the cloth, and with a low groan, Wang Yun buried his face in the warm valley of her breasts, lost to desire.
Eagerly, he yanked the undergarment away with one hand while the other continued to fondle her now-exposed breast. Her nipple, pinched between his thumb and forefinger, stood out prominently, and he brushed it playfully with the tip of his nose before taking it into his mouth. He sucked greedily, his tongue swirling around the sensitive peak. Soon, his impatience grew, and he tore off her dance skirt, parting her legs and pulling her to straddle his lap. Diao Chan could feel the hardness of his arousal pressing against her, her own body responding with a growing warmth.
Wang Yun freed his stiffened member, guiding it with a practiced hand to her already slick entrance. At first, he teased her with shallow thrusts, his tip quickly coated in the slickness that flowed from within her. Then, with a smooth motion, he thrust himself fully inside her. Diao Chan let out a soft moan as Wang Yun felt his shaft pierce the thin barrier of her virginity. The sensation ignited a fierce excitement within him, and he seized her slender waist, moving her rapidly against him. After several fervent thrusts, he pulled her tightly to him, her legs wrapping firmly around his hips. His entire length was now buried deep within her, enveloped by her warmth.
His body shuddered with each pulse of pleasure, and with every tremor, a surge of hot seed erupted, spilling into her depths. When his softened member finally slipped free, a faint trace of red blood mingled with thick white fluid trickled from her entrance—a testament to her innocence now claimed.
From that moment on, Wang Yun's desire to shower Diao Chan with favor and affection only grew.